Jul 24, 2011

When my kids look back on our first week in Amsterdam, they will probably remember it as the week that their mom cried a lot, and that time they went to Ikea and thought it was better than Disneyland. (Literally, because when we went to Disneyland last year we were all miserably ill and thought it was the worst place on earth.) When I look back, I'll remember the particularly evil combination of jet lag, stomach flu, and culture shock, and that it's even worse than having rotovirus at Disneyland. Oh, and also that I cried a lot. I'm sure our downstairs neighbor will often laugh at the stupid Americans who moved in above him and locked themselves out of their apartment within a week and had to climb up his balcony to get in through an unlocked window. And I bet the nice lady who helped us set up a bank account will always remember the adorable 3 year old who walked into her office and dropped the F-bomb, thinking he was speaking dutch.

And just think, this is only the beginning!

(Someday I might get around to writing about our move in more detail, but since that's pretty unlikely, I need to thank a few people:My dear friends in Seattle, without whom we would never have gotten out of our house.My mom, and 2 sisters, who gave up most of the month of June to take care of our kids, and were still on speaking terms with us by July.Tina Fey. When I wasn't crying this week, I was laughing at her book. My recommendation: unless you are a miserable person who hates laughter, you should go read her book. Right now!)